


All These Empty Nights

by thetimesinbetween



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M, Somnophilia, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 17:29:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetimesinbetween/pseuds/thetimesinbetween
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first night Blaine sleeps back at his parents’ after staying with Kurt for Christmas, he dreams that Kurt is fucking him. (Set mid-season four.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All These Empty Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr January 2013 here: http://thetimesinbetween.tumblr.com/post/40875734974/drabble-because-why-not

The first night Blaine sleeps back at his parents’ after staying with Kurt for Christmas, he dreams that Kurt is fucking him. 

He’d gotten a little too warm and woken up before rolling onto his belly and sinking back under, just a little, in the space between awake and dreaming where his limbs were loose and heavy and his filter was gone and he could feel everything.

He feels Kurt’s lips catching on the back of his neck, feels Kurt’s warm damp breath there too. He feels Kurt’s lovely fingers grasping between his own, Kurt’s lightly furred calves slotted with his, Kurt’s sharp hipbones pressing into his ass. And he feels Kurt’s goddamn perfect hot smooth wonderful cock pressing in deep—and pulling out just a little—and back in, rocking, rocking, Blaine wants _more_ but can’t move, can’t speak, wouldn’t move if he could, limbs heavy and lax and open and Kurt feeding his cock deeper pressed against him, god, is there anything better than this? 

Blaine isn’t how long the daydream-dream lasts, but when his eyes blink open of their own accord he can no longer feel Kurt’s fingers between his and he realizes he’s drawn his knees up under himself, pushing his ass into the air, begging. 

He closes his eyes hard, but it doesn’t work like that, of course. Kurt isn’t some creature to be summoned with a wish. Blaine feels his eyes burn, and when he squeezes them shut tighter, not ready to face the day, the empty house, the empty hours ahead, the pillow steadily dampens beneath his face. Finally he wraps a hand around his still-hard cock and comes in two vicious strokes. 

He rolls over, really crying now, and he’s not sure why but he’s way too hot and not really properly awake and he misses Kurt, he misses him, he just saw him but it’s not enough, of course it’s not enough with Kurt, not enough conversation and not enough quiet time and not enough singing and, god, never enough touching. There had been hardly any touching this time—just a hug at the ice rink and a hug goodbye, both excruciatingly short, and the occasional literal brush of the fingertips. Blaine can hardly stand it, he doesn’t know why he feels the lack so much when Kurt apparently doesn’t, but his skin prickles with it, his throat and shoulders tighten. He misses it. Touching. Misses skin and kisses, misses sweat and come, misses the whole sweep of it from holding hands to fucking bare, sliding against one another cheek-to-cheek and feet tangled. 

He lets himself cry (because he’s too exhausted to make himself stop and his parents aren’t home to do it themselves) until he’s too hot to continue, and then he takes a cold shower and tries to forget he has skin at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! I will ecstatically read reviews, comments, flailing, crying, concrit, essays--anything!


End file.
